


Center Stone

by alyseofwonderland (Esyla), Esyla



Series: Speirs/Roe Rare Pair OTP [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Four Elements, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rare Pairings, background winters/nixon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esyla/pseuds/alyseofwonderland, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esyla/pseuds/Esyla
Summary: They are the same, at their centers, at their cores. Ronald Speirs has a center of stone and Eugene knows exactly what that feels like.





	Center Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [God Loves A Medic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/59108) by [stewardess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stewardess/pseuds/stewardess). 



> This work would not have happened if not for a couple of really awesome people. Nina, for indulging my new obsession and letting me make her suffer. Manny, trying to keep me focused. Aimee, who came in late but really carried us through the final part of this fic.
> 
> I also want to thank all the lovely people on tumblr that helped me find the proper French words I needed! You guys are so amazing!
> 
> Welcome to my Rare Pair Hell!

 

In every person there is a core, the center of who they are. The reality of their self. 

Some people are air at their center, light and fair. These people have the natural talent to lift others up. Guys like Luz who could make any moment seem bright and fun. Lip who knew how to get every guy up and running on a bad day. 

Some people have fire at their center, passion and anger. These people could make crowds do their bidding and write poetry that would move a thousand hearts. Toye, who could never keep his temper but had more friends in the regiment than any other man put together. Winters who seemed so calm at the surface but gave more than a damn about everyone and everything, who inspired loyalty just by breathing. 

Some people were water at their center, ebbs and depths. They moved between emotions like the tides and could sink into themselves with ease. Buck who lived in either a manic kind of happiness and joy, or the steely cold of battle. Malarkey with his moods and his leadership.

Others had a center of stone, strength and calm. They couldn't be shaken when they didn't want to be. They could carry the world if they felt so inclined. 

Eugene Roe had a stone center. 

He moved like he was made of air, fast on his feet and light on his tread. There wasn't a whole lot of him around his center. Gene was pretty much all stone on the inside. He wasn't a huge talker, liked his quiet moments more than he ever liked crowds or parties. 

When he had been young he had thought he was made of water. His grandma had told him that their family was blessed with calming hands. Calm had always meant water to Gene. The soft stillness of the bayou on a sunny day. 

The army had taught him that he could handle anything, that he was made of stone deep in his soul. 

Normandy.

Other guys had been shaken by the experience. He had watched men tremble and float and flame their way through the first hours of combat. Bill had turned fiery in the hours of darkness, bursting into a bright flame of a person. 

In those first hours of the fight it was easy to spot the kind of cores these men possessed. That was when Eugene Roe finally knew he was made of stone, when his hands were steady and his heart was calm no mater the blood or death he stood in. 

-=-

Gene knew Speirs in passing, the same way he knew most of guys outside of Easy. Gene had come to camp a year later than most of his men. He was still a paratrooper but the army had been putting together a new type of military unit and that didn't happen all at once. 

At camp everyone kind of knew who everyone was, because it was easy to spot the companies and commanders. Dog Company bunked two cabins over and Gene had probably seen Speirs in passing three times a day. 

Gene had truly interacted with the man exactly once. On a bright and slow Sunday in the fading light of the sun, Speirs had sat down next to Gene on the steps of the supply building and offered him a cigarette. Neither of them had even spoken. There had just been a nudge of a boot against a his, a pack moved into his line of sight. Gene had taken the cigarette and accepted the offered lighter with a soft smile and a nod. 

It had been a restful twenty or so minutes. The silence hadn't felt oppressive or tense. Speirs didn't seem inclined to saying anything if he didn't have to and neither did Gene. 

It was a bit like sitting with himself. Their elbows didn't knock because each man knew where the other was. The puffs of smoke seemed to come from them on off beats so that as Gene inhaled Speirs exhaled. 

They could make an excellent team. Gene knew that by the third minute. They were made of the same stuff at their cores. At the time Gene hadn't known they were both stone, earth under pressure until it solidified and strengthened. 

When Speirs stood it felt like waking from a dream, reality shifting a little on its axis. 

“Doc” Speirs didn't salute with his hand but he went stiff at the shoulders and arms like he was thinking about it. 

-=-

Gene didn't call any of the guys by their nicknames. Not because he didn't want to be their friends or be a part of the company but because he couldn't be, not really. In medic training they had talked about the importance of an emotional distance. They told the men it was different when you were a medic, taking care of others changed how you thought about them. The instructors warned against making best friends. 

“We aren't saying you can't have friends. No one expects you to spend the war alone. We are saying that any man in your company or those stationed around you could be a patient. You have to be ready to pinch an artery on every single one of them. Doing that gets harder when it's your pal under your hands bleeding out.”

Gene had decided the best way to handle that was to not use the nicknames the rest of the guys used. That didn't stop them from calling him Doc. 

“You got _magic hands_ Doc.” Luz tells him one day. “You ever been anointed Doc?”

“No Luz, they don’t anoint regular folks.” Roe shakes his head. 

“Yeah, but you have that healing water shit right? Those faith healers always use water.” Luz continues putting a cigarette in his mouth.

“Water is used by many faith healers.” Roe admits. “My grandma used it to wash away pain.”

“Exactly!” Luz snapped his fingers, “You my friend are made of water.”

Roe thinks of his grandmother, with her soft hands and her prayers. He remembers the wind chimes in her kitchen and the soft sounds of water being poured on shaking hands. It makes him think of summer days and the wet heat of the bayou.

He doesn’t feel like water. His hands feel like cold stone, heavy on the skin of others. Yet it’s true that the men still below his fingers. Perhaps he is water and stone. 

Maybe it was one of the reasons the other companies seemed to like him just as much as his own. Maybe everyone just loved a medic. All Gene knew was that he seemed to be a popular guy without ever having to say much.  He could drift through conversations and people like water between fingers.

-=-

The first month he had felt bad for Easy. The third month he had been confused. The seventh month during a baseball game Ron Speirs had been pissed. Everyone knew Easy had a crazy CO. They hardly ever had weekend passes. They ran Curahee four times as much as any other company. Everyone either pitied or teased Easy for their bad luck. Speirs envied them. 

It was really apparent during that first baseball game. In PT gear the men from Easy Company stood out. Their legs had more muscle than the men from Fox, Dog, Item, and Able. Their shoulders looked wider too. 

It wasn't an easy thing to spot. Someone had to be really looking to notice these differences. It might be simple to think that Randleman had been just that broad from the first day or that Lipton was always sporting arms that size. The trick was to watch the smaller guys. Something that Speirs had a talent for doing. 

It was most apparent on the medic, Doc as the guys were already calling him. The man had thin bones, like a dancer or a bird. His nose was slight and thin.  On him the differences were clear as day. It bothered Speirs, on multiple levels for multiple reasons.

“You want to run extra?” His CO sounded truly confused. 

“We are falling behind.” Speirs explained. 

“I ain't marking my men against the insanity that Sobel is doing. We are perfectly well trained Speirs. If you want to run Curahee three extra times a week be my guest but I won't make that an order to my men.”

So Speirs started putting in extra time into his PT. What was the point in being the best regiment in the army if you didn't try to be the best? He had no intention of being second best, of falling behind when it came time to fight. 

It wasn't because Ron was blood thirsty or a grade A hard ass the way Marsh liked to say. Ron was going to be the best because he knew he needed every edge in this war the keep his men alive. 

His platoon was his first responsibility. He wanted all of them alive at the end of this war. Ron was determined. He had a duty. It might be an insane desire. An impossible dream that he had no hope of holding onto, but Ron was used to wanting things he wasn’t supposed to want. 

Maybe he should have put more thought into his own survival. Speirs had always thought he would see his end sooner than he would expect. 

“You got a death wish LT?” Jones asks him during a maneuver practice where Speirs vaulted himself over a pretend tank to drop a grenade.  

Ron shrugs because what he has a general disregard for his own life. It's not exactly like he has a life to go back to after this. What's the point in worrying about coming out of any particular maneuver alive?

-=-

The club was packed to the gills with soldiers. Nearly all of the 506 had been given the weekend to London. The city was under light discipline but most of the clubs were located in basements with metal doors and covered windows.

The army had rented out this club for the men and the local churches had brought girls that were well behaved and could dance. Granted that didn’t mean much of anything after the fourth hour and the fifth drink. A third of the guys had disappeared with their dance partners. 

Gene had worked up a sweat on the floor with a nice girl named Betsy. She had smiled and brushed nails against his collar when she offered him more than a dance. He had declined, that was not an itch he wanted scratched tonight. The moment he bowed off the floor to get a drink Betsy has been snatched up by another man who looked much more itchy. 

Trying to get a drink proves to be about eight times harder than trying to find a dance partner. At least if there are no girls open on the dance floor a guy can still jive by himself or with a friend, the same principal cannot be applied to getting a drink.

He is just about ready to throw in the towel and head off to the water station when a taller body moves up behind him and motions for the bartender’s attention. Gene can feel the heat coming off the other man and the gentle scrape of their wool uniforms brushing against each other. They are closer in this moment than Gene had been to his dance partner all night.

“Two pints.” Speirs orders.

“Thank you, Sir.” Gene smiles up at Speirs who returns the smile with a dazzling equivalent. When the beers arrive Speirs takes them both from the bartender and passes one to Gene.

Their fingers interlace over the cool glass for just a moment, digits interwoven. Speirs doesn’t look like he has worked up much of a sweat, but he must have because his fingers feel flame hot against Gene’s skin.

He takes the glass and they tap their drinks together before each taking a much needed gulp. Then Speirs turns and heads back into the crowd, quickly swallowed up by the men of Dog Company who were loitering near the bar. 

-=-

Gene was alone and completely sure he wasn't at the drop zone. It was understandable honestly. The planes had been going down and he had felt theirs get hit, or that could have just been the turbulence and speed. 

He was moving already, knowing that staying still wouldn't keep him safe. Medics didn't jump with rifles, all he had was the white arm band. It wouldn't save him if he came across anything bigger than a single man caught unawares. In the dark no one checked to see if the guy in front of him was wearing an arm band. 

The trees near him were silent. The kind of silence that he remembered from right before something would raise its jaws from the water. A predator on the prowl. 

“Flash.” Gene tried hopfully. 

“Thunder.” Came the satin reply. Lieutenant Speirs appeared out of the tree to Gene’s left. The sigh of relief shook his whole body. “Doc.”

They both still had their packs and gear. One rifle, two men, and all of Normandy. 

“We are too far north.” Speirs pointed out, tapping a pocket to indicate his map. Speirs must have already looked at his map, Dog Company had been four planes ahead of the one he had been in. Gene nodded. 

The walk was tense but easy. Speirs took point and left Gene behind him. For about thirty minutes they were completely alone in French countryside. 

It was a bit like walking through gator waters. There were predators out there that would kill them if they ran across their jaws. It was hard to jump at every twig snap when artillery fire sounded off every few minutes. Gene spent most of that walk beyond thankful that he had run into Speirs at all. The men respected Speirs, he was a good officer and a good soldier. He would know what to do. 

The first other person they came across wasn't a friendly. There were three Germans walking along the lane ahead of them, chatting. The path connected two farms, probably where the Germans had placed guns. 

Speirs didn't say a thing, didn't give Gene the chance to pull a knife or even consider doing something. The lieutenant just fired upon the krauts. The first went down fast. The second he caught in the legs and the man toppled. The third guy nearly made a run for it. Then three more shots were fired and all the men were down for good. 

Two minutes, maybe one and it was all over. Gene thought maybe he should be upset. The instructors had said the first kills would be hard, that it was fine to feel a bit sick or shake after as long as you kept moving. He didn't feel much of anything. Speirs looked equally unaffected by the men at his feet. 

The two of them made quite a pair, unshaken by these fast deaths. Gene found that same feeling of ease that he had felt all those months ago in Toccoa standing next to Speirs. They had a kind of understanding, at their cores. 

Centers made of stone, solid rock.

-=-

They always got it wrong later when the told the story of the prisoners on D-Day. The men made it sound like he had killed those men for the fun of it. The opposite was true. Ron had done the thing the brass wanted done but couldn't order him directly to do. 

The few members of the brass that had made it to that farm house were concerned about holding their position. There were guns to the north and south of them, firing on the army and navy. German military surrounded their current position. 

“If one of those prisoners gets out or makes a break for it this entire mission is compromised.” 

No one wanted to say that the invasion wasn't going to work. It would work. What they were saying was death sat at their door. Every man at this position was alive for now, but all it would take to change that was for the German prisoners to over power their guard. 

Ron took a moment to consider, the lives of all of his men and the men from the other airborne companies against the lives of eight Germans. 

The math was simple. No prisoners and they didn't have to allocate man power to watching the prisoners. That meant two or three more rifles in the field. 

He did the thing that needed to be done. He wasn’t happy about it. He wasn’t proud of his actions. He had done the hard thing, that was all there was to it.

-=-

Doc Roe had been on his feet and working since he first regrouped with the other men of the 506 Air borne division. His hands were stained red. 

It was such a small thing, water to wash blood off his hands. Only no one could spare water for something as small as that. 

In the moments between the rush, when his heart stopped pounding and he could hear himself think, he was infinitely bothered by this small detail. Not that he had a lot of time to think for himself. 

One hour for regroup, food and sleep. Gene found himself sitting on steps near one of the supply trucks. He needed to eat. Or try to sleep, but he just felt a bit like a rock. Stuck to where he was placed. Frozen in place by the sculptor who had carved him from a mountain.

“Hey Doc!” A voice above him called out. Gene looked up at the guy standing next to him. It was Epigg or Epskey from Dog Company. “Have some beans.” He passed a container down and Gene took it. “The LT says you got to keep your strength up.”

It was some time before Gene realized that the man had been talking about Speirs. Epigg was an NCO in Speirs’ platoon. 

-=-

First rule. Protect your medics like your life depended on it, because it did. Fox had lost theirs in the jump. Abel's had taken a shot to the head while trying to reach the meet. No one had seen or heard anything from Item’s medic. He could be dead or just stranded at the very tip of Normandy. The regiment had six medics right now and two of them were stuck at the aid station. Not the greatest situation for them to be in but hell, this was a war.

Speirs had just settled into his foxhole when he saw the silhouette of the Doc tip toeing from spot to spot. 

“Doc.” He greeted. The smaller man paused just above Speirs’ foxhole looking two parts confused and one part expectant. “You got a spot for the night?” 

“Nah.” Roe shrugged and swiped at his nose absently.

“You need to bunk down.” Speirs patted the empty dirt next to himself. 

“That an order, Sir?” Roe’s accent did funny things to vowels, making them longer. Speirs’ chest felt tight. 

“You are no good to anyone if you drop from exhaustion.” Ron considered making it an order but if he did that it would make all of this feel wrong. It was important that the Doc do this willingly. As long as neither of them was giving any kind of order they could be friends, or whatever. The second he ordered the other man to do anything this ease between them was in jeopardy. Doc came willingly and Speirs didn’t have to consider the alternative any longer.

They sat there for a while, neither feeling the need to talk. Or perhaps the good doctor was already afraid of Speirs the way a third of the men suddenly were. He hoped it was the first and not the second. Ron didn’t actually want to be feared by his own company. 

“Sleep.” Ron offered softly. “I’ve got first watch. I’ll shake you if anyone tries to die before the sun comes up.”

Of course he jinxed it by saying that. The Doc hadn’t been asleep for more than twenty minutes when a soft but audible call for a medic came from down the line. 

Ron didn’t even have to say a word or lift a finger before Roe was not only awake but up and scrambling out of the foxhole towards the call. It was impressive to watch. The side bag had such a long strap it practically hit Roe at the knees and he didn’t seem to trip over it in his crouch towards the call for a medic.

Speirs spent a moment thinking about just sitting there and trying to maybe sleep. But he had men to check on. And it wouldn’t hurt to see what exactly was happening with that weird moaning that Roe had run towards. It would be bad if the Germans broke through their line on the third day.

-=-

“You ever see LT Speirs and Doc in the same room together?”

“No, why?”

“It's uncanny. They barely say a word to each other but they have an entire conversation.”

“Now I know you're full of shit. “

“Listen to me, after Caretan, Speirs walks into the aid station with one of his guys under his arm. Doc grabs the guy and just gets to work. I was sitting in the room with that cut on my shoulder.”

“This still don't sound like a fucking story. “

“Would ya listen to me for a minute and shut your fucking yap.”

“Fine tell your fucking story. “

“Right so, Doc patches the guy up and then stands to go look at someone else. Only Speirs stops him and holds out a canteen. Doc blinks at him a few times and Speirs just shakes the canteen until Doc takes it. Then Speirs kicks a chair closer to Doc and just looks at him until the Doc sits down.”

“This is one lame fucking story. “

“All I'm saying is, that crazy fuck likes our medic enough to make sure he sits down and drinks water. We gotta keep Doc alive at all costs. Speirs will literally shoot us.”

“See, that's an important point.”

“Will you two fucking shut the fuck up before I fucking kill you.”

-=-

If Gene had a center stone, LT Ronald Speirs had a molten core. The man seemed to be composed of the same material that made the earth. Massive tectonic plates shifting to release fiery stone at intervals. At times he appeared completely still, grounded and centered, and then something would happen at he suddenly burned. 

Gene had only seen it the sense that he had watched Speirs leave cover and take out four guys while running. It has only been a moment, a flash of a visual in the madness that occurred during an engagement. Gene had been too busy trying to check that the man under his hands got wrapped up and pulled back to the main line to watch. 

In those moments it was easy to think that Ronald Speirs was bullet proof. He seemed to be under the impression that he wasn’t going to get hit. Or that he didn’t care if he got hit. Both options pissed Gene off. 

“The fuck was that?” Gene asks when he sees Speirs next.

“What?” The officer has the unrepentant gall to smirk and shrug like he didn’t jump right over a mortar, like he didn’t avoid any and all cover. 

“You know what… Ça me fait chier” Gene was getting really sick of his guys pulling this shit. It was the fifth day. Gene was going to have a long fucking career. Speirs looking like he might consider being apologetic, held out a cigarette silently. Gene took it because he fucking needed it. “If you get blown up I refuse to help.” Gene pointed the lit cigarette at the other man, who looked as close as a devil like him could to bashful. 

-=-

It’s an open secret. Everyone knows and everyone talks about it because when you have fuck else to do you gossip, but no one TALKS about it. The brass doesn’t know but probably every NCO and half of the Officers know what’s up.

There are girls in the nurse stations and at the bases who will go out dancing or drinking but at the end of the night always go home to their roommate. Roommates who they talk about the whole night. There are guys who prefer to have certain friends in their foxholes. No one really cares. If they do care they don’t have the time and energy to care deeply.

When they aren’t actively dodging bullets they are packed like sardines into foxholes or planes or barracks that are really just tarps with beds. Every man had rolled over into his neighbor’s bunk at least once. (Luz actually slept on a span of bunks about three wide, simply rolling on top of whoever was placed next to him. The guys had started to disobey bunking standards so the deepest sleepers were always next to Luz.)

Nobody actually expected hundreds of men to spend two years without getting off. Well maybe some of the mothers back home thought the boys would spend all their time at camp and at war with their pants tightly zipped. There were no mothers on the base and no mothers on the field. 

If you heard moans you kept your mouth shut. If you heard a gasp that sounded like ecstasy and not agony you kept it to yourself. If one of the guys went through his Vaseline faster than others you just let him barter some more off whoever had more. 

-=-

There were things Gene knew.

He knew all his prayers in French and Latin. 

He knew where all the major arteries in a body were and the best ways to stop the bleeding in the field. (It was never enough.)

He knew the sounds men made as they died under his hands. (It was startling little in the end.)

He knew that he looked for Lieutenant Ronald Speirs every time the call for a medic came down the line with a heavy heart. 

He knew the new kids had no idea what was coming.

He knew what fear tasted liked. 

He knew the only time he felt at peace anymore was when he could see Ronald Speirs, feel him in a room, or know he was safe. 

He knew he was in trouble. 

 

-=-

Gene walked into his barracks tent to find Ron… Speirs sitting on his bunk reading a magazine and having a smoke. It was a bit like owning a cat, or rather having an accord with a feral tom cat. 

There had been a tom cat back home that defended his alley ferociously. A sleek animal with torn up ears and boxed tail. Gene used to leave milk out for the cat when he had extra. After a while the rats in his apartment disappeared. This felt rather much of the same, only Gene had never given Speirs any milk. 

Speirs looked up and then handed Gene another magazine. He took the magazine because refusing would be rude and his maman had raised him to be polite. 

“I thought Dog Company had leave in London this weekend.” Gene hedges. It’s a safer question than asking where Speirs got the magazine, or the very nice looking rolls he has on a handkerchief next to him on the bed. Rule number one of spending time with Lieutenant Ronald Speirs, don’t ask where he gets all the stuff he has- he won’t tell you and then he will sulk about it for days. Gene had asked once back in Normandy where Speirs had managed to find the food he offered to share with him, it had not been army issued. Speirs had taken back the offer and stalked away with as much grace as a shunned cat. Gene hadn’t seen him for a day and a half, not that Gene had been looking or that he had time to be concerned about the absence. 

“I stayed back,” Speirs offered. “Easy is doing extra training with the replacements. I am training my batch of greenies.”

“Didn’t feel like having three days off to go see a nice city, eat food, and go dancing?” Gene asked. All of Easy Company was chopping at the bit to get off the base. The local village pub was now about 100% Easy Company. Gene would be willing to do terrible things to get three days off at the point but there was no account for the way Speirs prioritized things. 

“The kids need training more than I need a day off.” Speirs shrugs and picks up one of the rolls on the bed and take a bite. “You want some?”

“Sure.” Gene had eaten at the mess not that long ago, but they were rationed, the whole country was rationed. He didn’t really remember what it felt like to be full.  After a moment Speirs picked up the rest of the food and placed it on his lap as he shifted in the bunk so Gene could sit down. 

They both fit onto the bed, but just barely. The good thing was that the beds were actually pushed together these days so there was enough room by the door to actually walk into the tent. The parts of Gene that didn’t fit on his own bunk were braced by the bunk next to him. 

Maybe he should have just laid down on Skinny’s bunk instead of wedging himself onto his own but he was rather partial to this space. And there was something else here. 

Something that had been happening for a while and Gene was ready for this. He had seen it coming. He couldn’t name the hour or the day where he knew that it would come to this. Maybe in Normandy in the second week when his body ached and his hands had started to shake. When Speirs had held his hand in a foxhole and taken two watches so he could sleep. Never asking for anything in return for that. 

But he knew. 

-=-

Ron hadn’t been entirely certain what he was doing at first. Back at Camp Toccoa it had just been an impulse to sit down next to the other man that day. He didn’t have a reason to do it, he just saw the other man sitting and had found himself seated.

After that he just found it happening again and again. A club, a drop zone, a foxhole. Speirs found himself near the Doc. At first he thought, ‘okay I am comfortable around him.’ Speirs didn’t always find it easy to be friends with people. His attempts at conversation often put others off but Doc Roe never seemed that bothered by Speirs frank nature.

A little under a month into Normandy Speirs had finished an assault and had made his way to the aid station almost under no thought of his own. He had said he was checking on Wertz, who had taken a bullet to the shoulder, but really he just needed to see the Doc. 

Finally he had known after touching back down on British soil the truth of what this was. When Dog Company had gotten the leave Ron had stayed behind because he knew that nearly every company but Easy was going to be off base. The officers were mostly being housed with English families near base. That also meant that Easy would be without supervision. They weren’t going to be in their bunks for quite some time. 

The orders had come down. Their time in England was about to be over, it was the reason so much leave had been granted. 

Everyone talked about how Speirs was fearless. That was a lie. He was just as afraid as every other man in the airborne, he just didn’t show it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t prone to doing something because he was scared he wouldn’t get the chance to ever do it again. 

Speirs had come here on purpose. The food was an excuse. The bunk was strategic. 

The question and the answer had been the moment he moved over and offered a side of the bunk. If Doc had sat down on one of the other bunks it was a clear no. If he sat down with his body pressed so close that Speirs could feel his every breath then it was a yes.

They both knew that.

For several moments neither one of them moved. Ron just listened to Eugene breathe. He pinched out his cigarette and set the magazine down, moving the last roll off his lap and onto the bunk next to him. On his next inhale he could feel it. The tension right before an assault. That silence before a single shot was fired.

On his exhale he turned his head and upper body to look at Roe. There was a slow blink and then that familiar pull between them.

The first brush of lips felt like sinking into a pond on a warm summer’s day, refreshing in a way nothing else could be. Relief from a suffering he hadn’t even known he had. His hand was on a jaw line he thought about in still moments and his entire being was pulled towards the connection at his lips. Ron knew his lips tasted like smoke and ash and he was too afraid to open his mouth any more and learn how Roe tasted.

When he pulled back it was a terrible moment. There could still be a no here. Eugene could make a rebuff and it would be over. Ron wished he was better at reading people so he could understand what emotion he saw in those blue eyes. The two breaths of waiting felt like dropping from a plane not knowing if he would get shot out of the air before he could reach safety. 

Then there was a mouth on his and there was no more waiting. It was as much of a concession as either of them were willing to give at this moment.

Having sex in the army was not like having sex as a civilian. Clothes stayed on because they needed to stay on. No one got to snuggle afterwards instead you could maybe get away with a cigarette and a stroll. Ron knew enough guys who did stuff like this to know how much time they were safe having to themselves and how quickly he needed to move. 

He wasn’t expecting Eugene to climb on top of him and help him unbutton his shirt. The sensation was like being crashed on by a wave in the ocean. His breath was hot and wet in the space between their mouths. Trousers were open and then he had a hand around Eugene and there was a smaller slightly cold hand wrapped around him. 

Ron put his left hand behind Eugene’s head and held on, keeping them at eye level and breathing each others air. If he died in the next day or the next month he would remember exactly the shade of blue that Eugene Roe’s eyes turned as his pupils expanded and he gasped out. 

It was over really before it began. His hand was slick and then he shuddered and was finished as well. They lay there panting for a few moments before Eugene shook himself, his head giving a little shake. 

“Merde” Eugene  sat up and grabbed his towel from the end of his bunk wiping his hand and then offering it too Ron. He took the towel and then buttoned up his trousers. “We’re going back.” 

“Yeah.” Ron answered. So his fear hadn’t been hidden. Not from the Doc. Not just now when their souls had seen each other.

They sat at opposite end of the bunk for what felt like an eternity. Stars were born and died glorious brilliant deaths in the two minutes they spent silent together. Neither ready to speak. Neither ready to leave and end this. Eugene got a look on his face finally.

“What’s on your mind Doc?” 

“Gene.” He snapped back. “You can call me Gene now.”

“Can I?” Speirs knew his mouth was smug but this was an unexpected victory.

“Only if you want to, Sir.” Gene teased. 

Oh.

Some of what Speirs felt must have showed on his face because Gene’s eyebrows went very far up his face and then he smiled really slowly like it was creeping out of him. 

 

-=-

The third platoon of Dog Company fucking loved the Lieutenant. Speirs might be kind of a complete asshole, but he was their complete asshole. He also kept them all alive so far. They had lost some guys in the drop and one fucking idiot had followed Speirs out of the trench that first day but the rest of them had come out with holes or cuts but every last one of them was breathing. 

The problem was you had to watch Speirs because he tended to do fucking crazy shit and someone had to make sure he wasn’t forgetting his helmet or shooting random strangers that looked at him wrong. (“He wouldn’t actually do that Wertz don’t be a fucking prick.”)

The NCOs were the first to notice their LT had a soft spot for the medic from Easy. Hell they had ended up together on D Day, anyone could form attachments after a jump like that. Mackey had adopted an air force private and no one was that upset about having a filthy traitor in their midst. (“Air force, really Mackey? You can’t just fuck someone in airborne like the rest of us.” “Your mother was busy.”)

Naughty and Epic were the ones that finally had a talk with all the guys.

“Our LT has adopted the tiny medic from Easy company and we all know he is actually a giant bear wearing human skin as a disguise…”

“I thought we agreed he was just bullet proof since birth.”

“Eaton you interrupt me when I am trying to talk one more fucking time and I am going to tell Speirs about the lighter of his you took.”

“As Epigg is trying to say, if you see Doc in the field you help him out if you are not in the middle of shooting something or hiding in cover. Ya hear?”

“Aye aye Sargent.”

-=-

Talbert has found a dog, or rather Talbert has adopted a dog and now all of the 506 is taking turns coming around their farm house barn to meet the dog. Gene has been sitting in the hayloft trying to get some sleep while he has no one bleeding in front of him but Webster and Compton are determined to argue about something completely asinine. 

“Homer intended for Achilles and Patroclus to be perceived as lovers. Everything about their interactions speaks of intimacy.” Webster is very committed to this. 

“All I’m saying is that now that I have actually experienced war with you knuckle heads I feel like an argument could be made for them just being friends. Brothers in arms.” Compton has taken this stance for some reason, Gene doesn’t really remember why. The longer the discussion goes on the more inclined Gene is to agree with Webster. 

“Patroclus never fought. He was the Greeks equivalent of a medic.” Webster cuts in and there is a moment of silence where Gene realizes they have either stopped to eat something or look at him. He opens his eyes and looks over the side of the hay loft to see two pairs of eyes on him. They both smile and go back to their discussion.

“Your argument here, is that the best fighter in the history of Greece was fucking the medic?” Compton asks the question in a teasing tone of voice. 

The door to the barn opens and everyone who is awake turns to see who it is. Lieutenant Speirs stands in the door with two other members of Dog Company.

“Where’s the dog?” one of the guys asks. Trigger, the good dog that he is, comes trotting over holding a stick at this. Webster gives a little nod but it’s clear that Speirs isn’t here on any kind of official business.

“All the classic greek heroes have a counter point in their lives. That person who on the surface is completely different from them in every way but at their core they are the same. Achilles appears to not care that much and only enjoy fighting, the Greeks considered him their best fighter. But when the time came we see that he was, at his core, a deeply emotional person who cared about Patroclus with every part of his being.”

“Let’s say I believe you.” Compton replies slowly. Webster waves his hand allowing for a response, but Gene’s attention is on Speirs who has settled against the wall in a casual lean clearly listening to the conversation. “Your assumption here is that Achilles at his core is the same kind of person as Patroclus.”

“Not exactly, but yes. Achilles is all flash and fire until something bad happens and then he is an unstoppable kind of crazy. Patroclus is calm and solid until something bad happens and then he does something crazy.” Webster responds clearly frustrated. 

“Only one of them tries to fight a river.” Compton interjects.

“Patroclus tries to fight all of Troy.” Webster snaps back.

Gene catches Speirs eye them and they exchange something that might be considered amusement. Speirs is able to make his face wink, without actually winking. 

Gene is struck by the realization that the craziest fighter he knows in this war seems to be attached to a medic. It makes him wonder if this was intentional, or some kind of divine fate. 

Perhaps those gifted with souls that can fight the way Ronald Speirs does need connections to souls like Gene’s. 

He goes to sleep that night dreaming of battles on sand in a warm summer air. In his dream Speirs wears armor of gold and kisses Gene after a battle, ignoring the blood on both their hands.

-=-

“Lieutenant Speirs, what brings you over here?” Winters asked.

“I managed to find some more bandages for Doc.” Speirs patted a pocket. “Sargent Lipton said he was back here.” Winters sighed.

“You just missed him. I sent him into town to get some grub and get off his feet.” Winters explained. They were going to be in real trouble if Doc Roe dropped on his feet. Spina was a fine medic but he wasn’t Roe. There were certain guys in a company that held things together and Roe was one of them for Easy. 

“I can just leave them with you then.” Speirs reached into his pocket and pulled out the bundled up bandages when there was the tell tale sound of planes overhead. “That us?”

Winters could hear the engines, they were not the right kind of planes to be coming this way, not right now. He shook his head. Down the line Winters could hear the shouts for men to take cover. Speirs and him jumped into the cave Nix had built himself. 

The three of them huddled down waiting for the sound of the airstrike. Only it didn’t come. Not right away. There was a delay and then the strike came it didn’t sound close. Which meant….

“They hit the fucking town.” Nix exclaimed. “The only people there are the medics and the wounded and those fucking Kruats know that.” 

Winters looked up from his crouch, intending to regroup or respond. Only, he got a real good look at Speirs face. 

Dick had known Speirs back in officer training, when they were both just platoon leaders. They weren’t best pals but they had worked together closely for so long he could say he considered Speirs to be a friend. He remembered one time back in officers training when Speirs had gotten a letter from home. His mother had died. 

Dick could remember the exact look on Ronald Speirs face the moment he realized his mother was dead. He had been sitting across from Speirs at the officers table. It wasn’t something that was easy to forget. His grief looked like rage. 

Most guys when they got bad news, the blood drained from their faces and their eyes went hallow. Speirs had gone bright red and his eyes had turned a stone cold kind of stare. Dick Winters had never been afraid of Speirs, no matter what the stories claimed he did. 

But right then, in that hole with Nixon babbling about the dead men in the town Winters was suddenly afraid he might see what all those stories were talking about. 

-=-

George had the privilege of being in one of the rear foxholes today. It was his rotation to the back and he was fucking happy about it right now. He had a god damn tarp right now and that was just grade fucking a. 

“Hey pal.” A voice called out from above the hole. “You seen our LT, Speirs?” Luz sighed and stuck his head out of the tarp to see two guys from Dog Company looking expectant.

“I haven’t seen him.” What would Speirs have been doing way over here. Granted his platoon was closest to Easy, but still. 

“He came this way to give Doc Roe some bandages.” The second guy explained.

“Where the fuck did he get bandages?” Luz had heard the aid station was boiling the cloth they had, any cloth, to function as bandages at this point.

“Do I look stupid to you?” The second guy, Epic, scoffed. “First rule of Dog Company. Don’t ask Speirs where he gets shit.”

Of course, because Speirs was the god damn boogey man for the 506 the man chose that moment to appear out of the fog behind Luz.

“Epigg, Macnamare, what are you doing off the line?” Speirs asked. Now Luz had seen Speirs before. Been around the guy a bunch of different times in Holland and Normandy. This didn’t fucking sound like Speirs. Normally he sounded too smug by half, like he fucking knew how good looking he was, which he probably did. 

All the life had gone out of Speirs’ voice. It was fucking scary. 

“When you didn’t return after two hours we got concerned, Sir.” Answered the one who had to be Macnamare, Mackey. 

“Those weren’t your orders.” Speirs looked pissed but if Luz closed his eyes he was sure he would picture a man made out of stone in Speirs body. There was a sharp coldness to his voice that was not anger, it was a darker emotion, something black at the center of soul. 

“Naughty told us to come find you.” Epic, the man earned that nickname honestly because he didn’t look bothered at all by Speirs, more concerned. In fact he reminded Luz a little bit of Lip right now, mother henning. 

There was a crash, or a snap of branches to the right. All four men went tense and then a moment later Doc Roe appeared out of the brush. The guy looked like death walking. Luz hadn’t heard the truck so he must have walked all the way back from the remains of the town. 

Babe had been the one to mention that Winters had sent the good Doctor to town because he needed the rest. No one had been sure of course, where he was in the trip between the two locations when the air strike had occurred but most of Easy had been fairly certain their medic had at least four guardian angels looking out for him. 

“Gene!” The soft exclamation was Speirs. The Lieutenant walked over to Doc Roe calmly and gave him a half hearted pat down. And then hooked a hand into the Doc’s elbow and dragged the smaller man off.

“See, I fucking told you.” Mackey smacked Epic.

“Shut the fuck up Mackey.” Epic shoots his head. “Go find a blanket no one’s using.”

“Fine but I still called it.”

Then the two men from Dog Company wandered off. Luz could not believe his fucking eyes. Jesus Christ. He turned in his foxhole, ready to have a moment to himself to contemplate what he had just seen, when he saw Liebgott’s head poking out of the foxhole a few yards off.

They stared at each other for a several seconds.

“We take this to the grave.” Luz explained.

“Obviously.” Liebgott agreed. 

-=-

Speirs has to physically drag Roe into the foxhole. He is so out of it he doesn’t even fight until he is on his back and Speirs is pulling the tarp over the hole.

“Quelle?”

“You are off duty, time to sleep.”

“I can’t be off duty. I’m the medic.” Roe protests. 

“I sent Bones to fill in for you.” Speirs crowded the other man against the bottom of the foxhole. “You are getting some sleep if I have to sit on you.”

“You wouldn’t.” Roe’s eyes blink in bewilderment and Speirs face says ‘try me’.“Zut” Roe mumbled but sank into a more comfortable position, the fight going out of him.

He didn’t really remember walking back. He didn’t remember much of that last few hours, or days at this point. Gene felt unattached to his body right now, like part of him was somewhere else. Somewhere numb and unfeeling. Floating away into the forest above them.

Perhaps that’s why it burned when Speirs touched him. The hands on his cheeks and neck were chilled but they made Gene’s skin feel like it was burning. Part of him knew it was a side effect of the extreme cold. Another part of him knew that Ron Speirs was made out of molten rock and could burn any man or woman he wished. 

“Stay with me Doc.” Speirs voice sounds like a command. It feels like a command. A tether holding him in the present against his mind's and body’s wishes. 

“You’re angry.” Gene doesn’t know why he says it. It’s not what he should say with a man on top of him and hands on his face and neck but he can’t seem to connect to himself. 

When Speirs kissed him it was akin to being set on fire. There was something like rage between their mouths and he was unable to stop it or slow it down. It should have been too cold to remove any clothing, the freezing temperatures threatened every limb. None of that seemed to matter with Ron on top of him at the bottom of a hole in the ground.

Gene didn’t have a good grasp on time right now. The last time they had done this it had been in his bunk and he had felt bold and afraid. He had known the moment Speirs had moved over that there was more happening. He had also realized that it was probable they were heading back into combat. 

It had felt like the moment a firework exploded. All that anticipation and then the sparks in the sky. This time it was something else. This time was relief. Or maybe grief. 

Speirs had his pants open before Gene could really connect what was happening. Ron’s mouth was on him and sucking him down so quickly Gene worried about his ability to breathe. It felt like his soul was being pulled into the other man. He had this, once before at home, but it had been different. Something here felt more shaky, more important.

He realized Speirs was shaking, his eyes squinted closed with effort. Gene reached out and grabbed Ron’s hand, interlacing their fingers. His digits were squeezed in response, with a pressure so hard he was certain something would fracture.

He was the one who cracked in the end. Coming undone under Ron. The entire time he had been silent. They both had been. There was no room for noise in this dead forest. When he was buttoned back up and Ron had crawled back on top of Gene the moment broke. 

Speirs was shaking still. A tremor that might have been cold, to anyone else. 

“I’m sorry.” Gene apologized, brushing fingers along the cold shell of Ron’s ears. The other man didn’t speak. So they laid there in a warmer than normal foxhole while Gene finally found himself in his own body again and Ron let his weakness seep into the earth bellow them. 

-=-

They have cleared the second town. Dike is gone and now Easy Company has Speirs as their captain. The men were beat down but feeling hopeful and relieved. Maybe that’s why Cobb felt it was a good time to start gossiping. 

“Can’t believe we have a Captain that shot twenty german prisoners.” Cobb scoffs as the men are huddled in some bombed out structure, trying to eat. Gene sits off to the side listening. It’s strange now that Speirs is his commanding officer. The men talk about him all the time now. Gene sees him constantly, reports to him. The increased interactions have turned this thing from something he can bring to mind on occasion to something he thinks about hourly.

“It’s just a rumor.” Throws out Alley.

“Who starts a rumor like that?” Cobb shakes his head. “What about that thing in Dog Company? About how they found Macnamare with his tongue down some air force queer’s throat?” Cobbs voice sounds disgusted. 

Gene doesn't feel much of anything, he doesn’t listen to talk too much, it doesn’t do him any good. Talk like this is common. Gene knows that there are men in this very room who have had relations with each other. It hard to avoid with all the stress and isolation they have been under. As his eyes scan the room he notices that most of the guys look somewhere between uncomfortable and annoyed. 

“What about it, Cobb?” 

“Speirs let that shit slide.” Cobb shakes his head. “He didn’t have the gut to have them court marshaled.” Cobb continues.

Of course; because Speirs seemed to have a sixth sense and know when he was being spoken about by the men; he entered the shelter just then. 

“Captain Speirs, tells these guys that we don’t let fucking perverted queers into the Airborne.” Cobb calls out, because he has no will to live or see tomorrow. 

Gene knows what Ron’s face looks like when it is truly blank. Most of the men in the company mistake his relaxed neutral face for a look of blank contempt. Gene knows that Ron does this because his if he doesn’t school his features just a little bit he will always look like he is smiling, the corners of his lips turn up just a little unless he forces it. This face, it’s closer to what Ron looks like when he is angry. 

“What the hell is wrong with you Cobb?” Liebgott throws out smacking Cobb on the back of the head. “We do not have the time or the man power for that shit.” 

-=-

Speirs likes Carwood Lipton. He is a good soldier and a great leader to the men. On top of that they get along just fine. Speirs finds that he can actually stand being in the same room with Lipton regularly and trusts his judgment. Except for that thing about the bed. Clearly Speirs is a big enough person to take the floor. 

They are supposed to be sleeping right now. That’s what they were ordered to do. Its what Speirs wants to do. He is certain its what Lip wants to do as well. The problem is they are bunked in a room next to Winters and Nixon. It’s quiet, but there are also holes in the walls, not the roof thank god, but the walls are not completely intact. 

Speirs thought Winters and Nixon were cracked. Not because of…. not because of that. Because they were best friends and because they worked together, always. It would be too much of a distraction, to live in the pocket of another person that way and share the things they shared. 

It was one of the reasons he was thankful he felt the pull towards someone he didn’t work directly with. Every time he saw Gene a part of his brain thought things he didn’t need to be thinking. Every time he watched Gene run through gun fire and grab a wounded man part of his brain shut down and just screamed. 

Eventually they have to finish. Eventually the noise will stop and Speirs can sleep. He lays there on the floor begging that he will learn to sleep through this some how. His battle sense are too attuned to the sounds of grunts in the night (possible ambush), gasps for breath (possible man down), creaking sounds (also possible ambush).

Finally Winters and Nixon are done and Speirs, audibly sighs in relief. He turns his head to find that Lipton is awake and looking at him with a mildly horrified face.

“Next time,” Speirs whispers “we do not room next to Winters.” Lipton nodded.

-=-

Tonight Easy Company would be given actual sleeping quarters. The march towards occupation duty meant that there were homes to house the men. Officers were going to be in two houses, while the NCOs would be with the men in the church and apartment building down the road. 

This time Dick Winters would be in the house next door. Lip looked at the small house with it’s two bedrooms and realized he was not, under any circumstances sleeping here with Captain Speirs tonight. 

It wasn’t an open secret, not the way Winters and Nixon were, but Lip knew Speirs had someone. If Lip was a betting man he thought it might be someone in third platoon, were the medics were stationed. 

Lip had been there that day when Cobb had run off his mouth. He had seen the way Luz and then Liebgott looked specifically worried between each other and then off to the side of the room where half the guys from third, Doc, and Spina were sitting. 

He wasn’t going to spend time thinking about it, not in detail. But he knew that his CO was a good man and he had been worn a little thin in the last few weeks. 

Speirs walked into the house and gave it a little look around while Lip tried to think of exactly how to phrase this.

“Something the matter?” Speirs asked when Lip continued to stand in the middle of the room and not head towards the bedroom he was meant to be sleeping in tonight.

“I’m going to bunk with the men tonight.” Lip offered lamely. He was not good at this, he was better at being direct than he was at being sly. But he couldn’t just say ‘I’m leaving you alone tonight so you can have sex’ now could he?

“Doc says you need rest still Lipton.” Speirs was moving around the room, picking up random objects before setting them back down. 

“I am recovered enough to have a night with the men. I won't stay up too late.” Lip picked up his pack, hoping that acting like the decision had already been made would end this.

“Fine, but see Doc before you bunk down and check with him.” Speirs shrugged, looking to all the world like this put him out. Lip paid attention to the corner’s of Speirs’ mouth, the real indicator of his mood, and saw they had turned up. In fact Lip would even say Speirs was actually smiling at him as he left the house. 

Doc was putzing around in the third platoon bunking area at the church. Lip wandered over and the smaller man looked up with concern in his eyes.

“I’m bunking down with first platoon tonight. Captain wanted me to check with you before I sleep anywhere other than the bed I was originally assigned.” 

Doc looked confused for a moment, his lips pulled tight, and then his face shifted into something more open and relaxed. 

“You don’t take patrol or guard duty, ya hear me Lipton.” Doc’s voice had a soft rebuff.

“I promise.” Lip marched off feeling a lot better. 

“The hell you doing here Lip?” Luz asked when he entered the apartment building. 

“Giving the Captain a night off.” Lip answered. Luz nodded with understanding.

-=-

 

Gene had been wrong in the end. He wasn’t made of stone. He had stone below his skin, but after that he burned just as hot as Ron. He felt it now, holding Grant, knowing this man might die for no good reason. 

He had never believed in retribution, in revenge. God would see the souls of men measured in the end, it was not for his hands to decide. There was a difference between retribution and war. He knew what would happen when they found that man. Gene could see it on Speirs face and he had no words to stop him. He wanted Ron to end that man.

It had been a shock. To realize he could hate anyone person so much. And then to find out that Ron could be forgiving, gracious. 

They stood in that hospital looking at one another. Grant was under the knife of a German brain surgeon who Speirs had dragged from his home in the middle of the night. Gene had watch it all happen and had felt nothing but relief in this actions. 

Now the reckoning would come in the small room where Ron was billeted. 

“I didn’t kill him.” Ron told him. There was blood on his hands, spots on his sleeves. Yet Ron was shaking. “I couldn’t kill him.”

Gene felt a rage in his heart. Now? Out of all the times that Speirs had been able to muster the will power to do the hard thing, this time he hadn’t.

He didn’t even realize he had shoved Roe until they were up against a wall. Until Gene had his fist balled up and was ready to hit the other man. He didn’t hit Ron, he did something worse. He kissed Ron with all the hatred in his heart, biting his lips until he tasted blood. 

Something ripped. Gene didn’t care. He had nowhere to send this burning in his heart except for this, here in this moment. So he released the fire and hoped Ron would burn with him. 

Gene wanted it to hurt. He needed to physically feel what his heart felt. There was oil and he was naked on top of Ron. He didn’t remember really removing clothes, only that he had thrown something so hard a lamp had fallen over.

“Gene.” Ron started sounding… Gene couldn’t place that tone of voice but he had never heard it before out of Ron’s lips. He didn’t respond. They didn’t need to talk, that was part of the glory of sex was that certain parts of communication could be left with the clothes.

He had the oil on his fingers and then on Ron before the other man could try to convince Gene otherwise. The burn hurt, but Gene gritted his teeth, taking as many fingers as he could stand at that moment. More than he had tried this fast before.

There was a hand, rubbing at his neck and another placed softly over his heart. Gene didn’t want that. He didn’t want Ron’s soft touch with half bloodied hands right now. He wanted something that could run all the pain and death out of him. 

But Ron wouldn’t play along. When Gene bit him, Ron just prolonged the kiss with soft lips and a softer hand on his face. When Gene sank onto Ron with a brutal thrust the other man rubbed hands up Gene’s spine until he felt curved and small. 

It was stupid to think this thing between them could ever be ugly or hard. It had always been so based on the softest part of each of them. Gene found his pace slowing and his face relaxing from he grimace it had held. Ron had him wrapped up fully with his strong arms, holding Gene and slowing the pace of his thrusts until it was hardly more than grinding.

When Gene finally let go, when the fight drained from every part of him and he let Ron roll them over so he could be covered by the tender embrace of the other man, he finally understood. This had always been about caring too much. He could never take that and turn it angry. 

It was the slowest they had ever had sex. They had even been fast that time in the house. Now Ron seemed content to fuck him so soft it felt like silk. 

Gene couldn’t hear anything beyond the panting of their mouths and the beating of his own heart in time with Ron’s. Like that first time, in the bunk in England, their eyes held. The first time it had been a challenge. This time it was an undoing.

The pain and the death and the horror spooled out of him into Ron’s eyes. Pulled slowly from him into another, in a way that could never happen except in a moment like this, in a connection like this. 

Ronald Speirs held Gene’s eyes as he came, the connection daring him to not dare close his eyes. Then it was his turn to watch Ron’s world explode in light through the windows of his soul. 

Maybe that was the lesson here. What they had meant to learn from one another. Gene could hold up Ron when he shook himself apart and Speirs could make Roe come back to life when he froze. 

They were made of the same stuff. In opposite directions. Fire and stone. Calm and passion. Reversed in two different hearts.

“I’m sorry.” Ron whispered as they held each other. 

The kiss in the darkened room was not relief, or anger, or grief, or fear, like the others. It was acceptance. It was understanding. 

“Je connais.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ Come talk to me on tumblr if you also are in rare pair hell!](http://alyseofwonderland.tumblr.com/)


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